


Bizarre

by Val_Creative



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon Era, Narcissism, Other, Shapeshifting, Slurs, Superpowers, Teen Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 05:09:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8191427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Wally nods, continuing to eye the other boy from the bright blue eyelets of his trainers to the cowlicks of his orange hair. "Pretty good." /WallyxMM!Wally. Futureverse. Crackish.





	

*

His freckled fingers drum impatiently over the smudged glass of the coffee table, fanning before landing with a pitter-patter of hushed rhythm.

 _His_.

Wally is familiar with the habit. It's _his_ after all.

"What do you think?" His thin lips draw apart, together, as the other boy asks this with a patient sort of smile — lips smooth and with the slight shine from his lip balm and pfffft, it wasn't girly to wear it when you actually needed it. _Huh_. Wally had no idea that he even had _dimples_.

Wally nods, continuing to eye the other boy from the bright blue eyelets of his trainers to the cowlicks of his orange hair. "Pretty good."

Absently, he threads the top of his own head and presses down.

The other boy's — _HIS_ — smile widens pleasantly to reveal his teeth. And it sooo isn't sexy.

Uhhhhh.

 _Shit_.

Wally jumps a little in his seat as his doppelganger stands from the butterfly chair, brushing his hands down the front of his wrinkled flannel shirt and walking around the coffee table. Wally's heart thuds a little in his throat when _he_ bends forward, hands to knees, and familiar olive green eyes level.

"I get it, Wally…" His _own_ voice rasps, edging with determination. "I get it."

Determination for what…?

Hands. Hands gently touch where his breastbone is, caressing into the gray flannel of _Wally's_ shirt. An index finger hooks the collar when Wally reacts with a weak shudder.

Shit.

"M—" Wally feels himself being yanked upwards. Lips. Oh, god, his lips are trapped by another smooth pair. Moist. They nudge Wally's to separate and, _god_ , his tongue — his _own_ tongue rubs languidly, cautiously against his.

Tongue fucked. Wally is being _tongue fucked_.

By _his_ own tongue.

There were a lot of things wrong with this picture.

A lot, a lot of things wrong.

But…

Wally squeezes his eyes shut, groaning into the possessive kiss and digging his nails into the stripe of skin exposing the lower back underneath the other boy's shirt. An echoing groan, higher in pitch — and it is the _one_ thing that distinguishes an individual trait between both boys. He, _he_ , tastes like the cheesecake Danishes several hours ago.

His doppelganger pulls from the shared airspace, dabbing saliva from Wally's chin with a thumb. Almost motherly in fashion.

"Not bad for a first time, huh?"

"Your freckles are green," Wally manages to inform him. Speaking is _hard_. "…should fix that."

For the briefest of moments, the olive green of _his_ irises mottles with a coppery color before solidifying green. The freckles darken immediately to brown.

Wally asks painfully, "Am I really that much of a manslut?"

Instead of patient, instead of leering, his _own_ smile is sympathetic.

"Sorry, Wally." Looking outright embarrassed is something new to Wally. Looking at himself looking embarrassed is… well, you get the picture. "I should have tried to establish a stronger control of your emotions. Or… on your hormones."

"…"

A feeble chuckle. Oh _god,_ he is a manslut. He is a manslut and someone else _knows_.

"… you're getting better at shape-shifting at least?"

The other "boy" gives him a Wally style, one-arm shrug. "That's the good news."

Wally cringes.

"Wait… there's news?" A hint of panic. "Wait… there's _bad_ news?" he asks.

"I can't…" Wally watches with semi-horror as pale, freckled cheeks flush uncomfortably. "… shift into my true form when… aroused."

His frowning doppelganger cups a hand over himself. Aroused.

Oh. _Oh_.

"Does that mean…" No no no. Stay _down_. This is not sexy. Unnnnf. "We have to…?"

A firm head shake. "There is nothing you need to do, Wally. This is not your fault."

The frown quivers. No tears building up. Good. How do you comfort _yourself_ crying?

"I just… I don't know…"

"I can, uh…" So not awkward. "…show you?" Wally offers. The flush deepens and the original pair of green eyes widen impossibly big. Wally waves his hands frantically. "Not like— no, I wouldn't take advantage of me— _you_ —uh-!"

The other Wally keeps his hand over the space of his jean crouch, simpering.

"I can figure it out…I've researched the male anatomy and it's… _o-oh_ —!" His hand jerks away, as if coming into contact with something hot, and Wally can definitely see now the tent from where he is. That hand… is _blurring_.

"Don't do that." Wally stands and cradles the other's face, keeping eye contact and ordering sternly, "Calm down. Take a breath." The other Wally reddened and flustered does as he is told, releasing a long inhale. His entire right arm is _blurring_. Wally licks his lips. "I'm going to try to… channel it out."

"Will that work?"

Lying wouldn't help. "…I have no idea," Wally confesses, and takes the plunge by clamping onto that right arm with his hands.

It's not like Barry's vibrations at all; these feel… _choppy_ … _volatile_. He tries to match the frequency and it works somewhat but… these are his powers. Wally knows them. They aren't developed. They are… as much as he would to not to acknowledge it… they are _dangerous_. And all of this for helping his teammate practice shifting into men?

The other Wally steps out of his grasp as Wally lets go, buzzing in place for a few seconds (in reality nothing more than a rainbow strobe of flannel-colored, orange, bright blue) and stills, breathing hard. "Your powers are… chaotic."

"Tell me about it," Wally answers dryly. "You need to change back soon."

His doppelganger makes an agreeable noise, weaving around Wally and the coffee table, mumbling an _"-just excuse myself_."

He squeaks — Wally didn't know he _squeaked_ — when Wally wraps a hand in his and pulls him back to his side with a serious expression. "No offense but I don't trust you by yourself. Besides…" A mischievous grin that is mirrored back as the last sentence registers, "I know where all _our_ spots are."

*

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Circa - 6/10/11]: Written on impulse. Kinda a strange AU. But hnnng, okay, when I saw comics M'gann shape-shift to Tim Drake to save him from a fatal bullet wound…I had urges for more things like that. Hence my impulse. I give full blame to Kelly (Vladbride on FFN and Tumblr). WALLYCEPTION. WE MUST GO DEEPER.


End file.
